by Lahey, Tyler
Adira could see the reservoir to her right. At the top of a massive, three hundred foot grassy incline, the Wolf troopers manned the lip of the lake. Sprinting up the hill, the infected were closing the distance fast.
“Are they killing them fast enough?!” Adira screamed above the roar of the engine. “Hold on!” The pair of women slammed forward as the car broke apart another group of infected struggling to cross the street and mount the hill.
“There are too many Adira! Look!” Kylie pointed out the window as the steam rose from the engine block.
She could hear the screaming carry across the grass. Adira could just barely make out the arrows in flight, as they were launched from the Wolf’s bows atop the hill. They struck infected targets a hundred feet down the hill, sending them tumbling. She peered into the sunset as Kylie’s pistol went off beside her. An infected took a round through the chest but did not falter.
“Adira, drive!”
Adira dropped the steel to the floorboard and eyed the gas tank. Almost empty. Where were the others? They had to have seen the flare.
“There!” Kylie screamed. Four ATVs burst through the tree-line behind them and made straight for her Charger. A dozen infected followed ten seconds later, limbs pumping furiously as they strained in the summer dusk.
The ATV’s skidded to a stop around the heavily plated car. They only had a minute before the infected were on them. “Kylie! Buy us some time!” Adira ordered.
Bright eyed and bursting with adrenaline, Kylie stepped out of the car and took careful aim at the nearest infected. The weapon cracked, and a head exploded.
“What the fuck is going on!?” Her nearest driver screamed above the thrumming of the idling engines. His Destrier patch was soiled with mud.
Adira wiped the sweat collecting at her brow. The car’s heat was slowing her brain. “It’s the Horde.”
“It can’t be. It’s real?”
“Look around you! The Wolf fell back from the ravine, they’re stuck on that hill, at the top of the reservoir.”
The Destrier drivers shuddered, knowing what was about to be asked of them; there was room for two on the back of their ATVs.
“Take the ATV’s up that hill! Evacuate them all! We’re falling back.”
Three drivers snapped their goggles into place with shaking hands, mastering their fear. The fourth hesitated as Kylie’s magnum cracked twice more nearby.
“Donald, get moving!” Adira raged.
Donald’s 6 foot 3 inch frame would not move. The sniper rifle at his back was wobbling, and his lips trembled as his eyes feasted on the carnage around them.
“Kylie!” Adira yanked her head over. Kylie set her jaw, furious at the fear she saw before her. Everyone felt it. Only the brave mastered it.
Adira paused, seriously considering leaving Donald to run back to the Citadel on foot. “Get in the fucking back you coward! I need your rifle!” She screamed.
Donald stuffed himself into the back of the Charger, the whites of his eyes popping out of his skull.
She felt the shock absorbers struggling as the heavy vehicle crushed two more infected underfoot. As Adira let the engine roar, she could see the ATVs speeding up the reservoir hill, swerving between the groups of infected that delighted at the new prey. The road took Adira’s Charger up and around the back of the reservoir hill, so she could see the shimmering blue waters lapping up on the back of the earthen dam. Adira killed the engine and waited. She could hear Donald whimpering in the back seat, and she could hear the carnage developing on the reservoir. She hadn’t been followed. Snatching Donald’s sniper rifle from his flailing limbs, Adira raced to a little clearing beside the elevated road.
Adira deployed the bi-pod and laid down in the underbrush. Down below her vantage point, the ATVs had crested the hill. She could see the four drivers, and seven Wolf troopers with their camouflage body-suits and compound hunting bows.
Putting her eye to the scope, she searched for targets.
Seventeen, eighteen, twenty? The bodies littered the reservoir’s earthen hill below, many still moving with colorful barbs sticking out of their bodies. Others straggled in from the forest below. She knew the ravine lay deeper inside, long since abandoned by its guardians.
The infected were mounting the hill. There were at least twenty of them sprinting up the grass, swift as their compromised limbs would allow. They did not dodge or shy from the arrows that flew down the hill to meet them.
Adira led her first target by a hair, and pulled the trigger viciously with a sweaty finger. The shot embedded itself in the dirt. Cursing, Adira adjusted her stance, and selected another. This time, she squeezed, and the bullet found purchase with a satisfying a detonation of flesh.
Adira fired again, and again, the weapon discharging loudly in the dusk. The sun was setting. She could see the ATVs being loaded up; Kylie was organizing. A wall of infected was about to hit them. Adira watched the panic, barely contained before, now explode on the hilltop. Through the scope, she saw men fighting with the bows as melee weapons as the infected fell among them. Kylie flipped her pistol around and used it as a club to send the foe tumbling back down the incline.
The sniper rifle put a round through an infected’s shoulder, decapitating the foe. Her infected target used his remaining hand to rip half a Wolf Trooper’s painted face off. Three ATV’s were already speeding away, along the top of the earthen dam towards Adira’s position in the forest.
A single ATV remained on the crest, surrounded by three survivors. As Kylie fended off another attacker, the Wolf trooper with half his face torn off mounted the ATV and gunned it. Adira snarled audibly as he attempted to speed away from the danger. He hadn’t made it twenty feet before he was flung back from the vehicle, left to clutch a smoking wound in his chest. Adira reloaded the rifle.
Kylie and the final trooper sprinted to it, leaving the wounded man rolling in the grass. As the final ATV sped away, the infected fell on the coward.
Adira spun on her heel; they had to warn the Citadel.
Near the North Eastern Ravines, The Church
Liam hoisted the shotgun, and was reassured. He looked around in the church; some of the others here had .22s. They would be useless. Passing through the rotting pews, he stared down his compatriots with a steely gaze. They were no heroes. The survivors around him were slower, weaker, more fearful, and less aggressive than those in the Eagle, the Lion, or the Wolf. These were the last line of defense, and as a result, they were the weakest line.
Liam stopped to aid a wide-eyed girl with high, elegant cheekbones. He kneeled between the pews, and saw her eyes flash over his uniform and heavy boots. He tried to smile. “Your name is Cassidy, right?”
She smiled sheepishly, and ran her fingers over her legs. “Yeah. And obviously I know who you are.”
“I didn’t assume that,” he said with a smile.
Her smile faded. “Is this it?”
Liam stiffened, feeling the others in the room leaning in. He fixed his eyes on her sigil, the bear sewn to her jacket. “I’d be lying if I said I knew.”
“You’ve been here since the beginning, right? Where else would we go?”
Liam shook his head. “Nowhere. We fight here. What weapon do you have?”
She held up her hands, and then tapped a flare gun on her belt. “They ran out. I’m supposed to fire the flare if you tell me to. We already fired our blue and yellow. This one’s black and red. Blue and yellow if we think we need help, black and red if we are being overrun,” she said sheepishly.
Liam reached out, and despite his own callousness, clutched her clammy hand. “You won’t need that, today,” he lied.
As he rose, he heard a voice behind him, from a man, his tired face etched with deep lines of mud. “I heard there were hundreds. We don’t stand a chance.”
Another rose, bright eyed and ruby red. “The Lion has never been broken. Jaxton won’t let them enter our valley.”
“It’s never been like this
before. There are too many of them. We should be getting out the other side.”
Liam held up his hand. “Shut your mouth, coward. There are groups of men and women moving back from the fields, the fisheries, all the other settlements. If the Bear retreats, the infected will fall on them before they reach the Citadel.”
The face with muddy lines tightened, and his hands clutched his pathetic rifle. “Then they’ve already been told to retreat. It must be serious.”
Liam addressed them all, the nine feeble survivors standing at attention in the little musty church. “I won’t have your fear infecting the ranks. If anyone wants to go back, go back now. I don’t need you.”
The grubby man spat. “You’re letting us go?”
“How would I compel you to stay?”
He shrugged, and took three steps towards the green wooden doors, forced ajar. Two others hustled out with feverish eyes, leaving Liam and six others remaining. Only in the Bear, Liam thought.
“Right. I’m going to the steeple. The rest of you, onto the roofs of the main street. The infected can’t be far.”
No one moved, to Liam’ annoyance. He hefted his shotgun and his heavy boots thudded on the wooden floor. At his back, the others sprung into action.
Working his way to the back of the church, Liam found his reinforcements. Most of the civilians had fled the main street settlements not one hour before. Not these. A portly matron wearing a jean skirt, two red-faced teenagers, and an old man with wispy hair stood in his way, armed with axes and shovels.
Liam stared down at them. “Why didn’t you evacuate with the rest of them?”
The matron chuckled, not intimidated by the bear in the least. “This here is our Church. What kind of disciples would we be if we abandoned it in this hour of need?”
“You’re all going to die,” Liam snarled, enraged at their stupidity. “Have you ever fought the infected?” He snatched one of the acne-ridden teenagers’ shovels and tossed it aside. “Clearly not.”
“We fight with or without your help, boy.” The old man showed his rotting teeth and spat.
The moment hung in the air, till Liam shook his head clear. “Don’t let them up behind us. We’ll be on the rooftops.”
…
Liam kicked out the wooden grating at the top of the tiny steeple, thirty feet off the ground. He had a straight view of the main street of town, and spied the others clambering atop the second story buildings. He nodded in earnest to Cassidy, who clutched the flare gun nervously as she crouched behind another with a rifle.
Liam crouched on the splintering floor and loaded his slugs carefully. He only had 17. He could see the edge of town in the early morning light, and then beyond where the deeper woods began a few hundred feet in the distance. Aside from his breathing, all was silent. His eyes drifted to the Eastern ridge beyond, which cast a looming shadow across the town. He had heard the latest report from a runner of the Wolf.
The infected had entered the valley in force.
Liam shot a glance far behind him to the Western ridge, where he knew Jaxton was with thirty men. He imagined them up there, somewhere in that greenery, butchering the foe five hundred feet above the valley floor.
Maybe his brothers had taken care of the breach, and put it down with their usual efficiency. Maybe not, Liam conceded.
As the hour stretched on, the others lost their attentiveness. Liam could see them slouching against the tiny walls on the roofs, their firearms out of hand. Not one maintained their gaze down the main street. The street had to be held, if the farmers and fishers were to make their long trek back to the Citadel’s brick walls.
Liam squinted in the sun. There was motion ahead, below the trees at the settlement’s end. He whistled loud and high, and the others snapped out of their daydreams. They peered over the walls. Liam gripped the shotgun and looked down. His heart dropped. There were at least a dozen of the enemy, moving fast towards the church. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.
He waited till the first target was fifty feet away, sprinting past the old ice cream store. The shotgun crashed back against his shoulder. The others on the rooftops yelled to hide their fear and started firing their semi-automatic squirrel rifles at the incoming infected. Their tiny bullets were absorbed by decaying, festering bodies.
Liam saw his target crumple under the power of his slugs. Breathing deeply, he selected another as it tore through a low fence. He missed. Cursing, he tried again. His shot took the infected woman in the arm, but it kept going. Would the others take it down? He selected a new target, dodging in between several crashed cars. He fired. Miss.
“Fuck,” he cursed again. His shots were too panicky. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself. But all he could focus on was the frantic rifle fire from his compatriots. Opening his eyes, he saw three infected pass below his steeple and break into the main part of town. His units were firing wildly, missing three in four shots. Another trio of infected passed below him, and Liam could see only three corpses on the hot asphalt.
He adjusted the weapon, and took a woman’s head off at the neck. He set his jaw in triumph, pleased at the effect. Suddenly there were another dozen, streaking towards his position. Liam felt his shotgun slam back into his shoulder four more times, and they were still swarming beneath the church.
Someone was screaming at him. It was Cassidy, standing atop the general store. She was waving her slender arms frantically.
Liam bit his lip, and growled in resignation; he signaled her. Two seconds later, he watched a black and red flare soaring into the sky. They could not hold the town.
The Citadel
“There’s another one.”
“Who’s it from? Can you tell?”
There was a pause. “Looks like it could be Main Street. Bear Unit. Liam in command possibly.”
The spotters watched the tiny flare ascend into the blue sky on a summer day. “That’s the fifth so far.”
“What were they covering?”
“All the food crews. They’re still not back.”
“Where are they now?”
“I’d guess Browning Way, that long straight stretch before the suburbs start. The open road. There’s not much forest there.”
“Liam said we should tell Troy if they fired another.”
“What the fuck is going on?” The spotters yanked their heads around at the familiar voice. Troy was hobbling towards them on his crutches; somehow he had scaled the latter, but the men were not surprised. Troy was a tough man.
“Sir! Every sector has fired a flare of some sort at this point. They are all under assault. We do not know who is where, or what units are still holding.”
Troy scratched his shaved head and growled. “You’re fucking useless then!” He leaned a bit too far to the side, and shrieked. Troy tumbled to the rooftop in pain, cursing his broken knee.
“Sir!”
“Are you alright!?”
Troy did not move from the rooftop, and instead rolled over, so he was staring at the dusky sky overhead.
“Sir?”
Troy did not move. “The valley is going to fall, boys. Start arming the civilians and sealing the exits. Bring all the horses inside. We might need the food.”
Chapter Eight
Near the North Ravine, Mansion Outpost
“What are your orders, sir?”
Wilder fought to ask his men questions, knowing he had to exert his authority. “We did our duty. We set Leeroy free outside the valley walls. Now we have a duty to respond to this flare.”
“Sir.” His men nodded, and prepared to check weapons and ammunition.
Wilder fought not to smile. They trusted him. This would be a quick operation, he was sure. Maybe five or six zombies. “Good. After we check this breach…and I estimate it won’t take long…we’ll head back to the Citadel to re-link with Troy and the rest of the team. Who’s in the Mansion?”
“The Citadel moved a team of Wolf troopers and civilians into the Mansion the mo
rning after we cleared it of traitors.”
“Their numbers?”
“Eight total sir.”
Wilder nodded, thrilled with the joy of being in true command for the first time. He had followed Troy’s lead for so long. It was unfortunate Troy had been injured, of course, but Wilder would not complain. “Let’s move.” Before Wilder could take a step, he saw something arcing into the sky behind him. “Is that a black and red?”
“Someone’s being overrun? How is that even possible?”
“It has to be a mistake. It would take almost a hundred infected to overrun a ravine. C’mon.”
Wilder set the pace, and ignored the revolt his lungs had staged against him. The others would not let him down. He could not let them down. Fear drove him forward. He was terrified of being found unfit for the command. For months, Troy had trained him as his right hand man. Now, Wilder was alone with four of the Eagle troopers. His men were the fastest and toughest in the valley, born hunters and warriors. Their equipment was equal to none, and they knew it. Each man had a well-oiled M4 assault rifle, several spare magazines, a handful of grenades, a standard issue sidearm and several clips, and military grade clothing and goggles.
Wilder tapped the eagle sigil sewn onto his camouflage subconsciously, and re-strapped the bulletproof vest. He counted his magazines once more on the run, and re-clipped his holster strap.
He checked his analog watch. Thirty-five minutes since the flare from the Mansion. The band of five raced along a tiny, single lane road that clung to a brackish lake. They had been here before, on the night the traitors were executed in the dark house.
Wilder could see the opposite bank, rising swiftly from the water’s edge at a steep incline. The friendly survivors had fired the flare from atop that rise, in the abandoned mansion that sat atop those wooded hills.
Lengthening his stride, Wilder led the band raced along the water’s edge. Their trek took them to a stone dam at the lake’s edge, its one hundred year old blocks slick with moss and crashing water. Wilder slung his rifle over his back, and stepped out onto the dam, where the water was only a foot deep as it flowed over the precipice to the river below. The men crossed the dam silently, without complaint, and with little drama. On the other side, Wilder gathered them close.
